Chapter Ten
Beth's stomach felt like it went as far right as your organs could go as the chinook banked left. Or that's what she guessed based on the direction of her guts, the force of the aircraft and that strange sensation of gravity pulling you in the direction it very clearly wants you to go. She gripped onto her harness as if she were riding some roller-coaster at a theme park, eyes clamped shut and tongue wedged into a tooth as her unhappy stomach reminded her that its scant contents could easily make a return trip via her mouth.
She did not mind flying, but that opinion was largely based on the somewhat relaxed flights she'd had in her life, a stark contrast to this version of aviation. She risked a peek up and down the hold of the chinook, quickly assessing the faces of everyone else. Some looked like her, eyes shut and knuckles white in their clenched fists. Others looked like they were concentrating on breathing with quite the determination, eyes fixed ahead of them and cheeks going in and out like a bellows.
She looked up the far end, towards the front of the aircraft to where Henry sat, his face set with a slightly different look of determination, if occasionally a bit pinched by any sudden lurch of the aircraft. He'd not said much to her since she'd arrived yesterday. He'd been chattier during their secretive meeting in Washington, which seemed a hundred years ago now. She'd thought he would be vibrating with excitement, now that they were so close to getting back to the island. But then again, she thought she would be too. Maybe when she was back in the lab. Yes, that's when it would start.
The thought of capture by the authorities gave her a sudden sharp reminder that she was complicit in something highly illegal. God knows why she had said yes in the first place to this. But then another sharp reminder told her she knew anyway, she did not need to trouble God for the answer. That ambition was there inside her, coiled and ready to spring and take her back into the world of science that she'd left behind. She gripped her harness a bit tighter, knowing the risks were worth it. Or for her they were. A glance across the hold at Sam Summers made her realise maybe the risks were a bit higher for others.
The man looked calm enough on the surface, but his eyes were the giveaway. Every now and again they would dart about, like a wild animal caught in a trap. She almost felt bad for him. She could see the doubt and the worry flashing across his face in little flits. Like a glimpse behind the curtain of an apparently organised theatre production, only to reveal a frantic cast and crew in disarray, making that doubt spread. Luckily, Beth's own determination was enough to quell both her own doubts and the infectious worry of the others. Doubt was a burden. It held you back. Her mother had forever reminded her of the things that held her back. Beth's lips scrunched up into that shape they make when an unpleasant memory invites itself in. She let her eyes roam the hold in search of a distraction.
Her eyes met McCallister's, and that immediately drove out any nagging thoughts of her mother. Jill had said he had been an unpleasant colleague at best, all those years ago. Time did not seem to have altered that aspect. She'd tried to avoid him, yesterday at the briefing and afterwards. Him and his tedious stories or rumours about the Park or Sorna. And those cursed knuckles of his, forever being cracked. The noise grated on Beth. He flashed her that grin he seemed to think he'd patented and went back to grinning at everyone else. She had a fleeting and amusing thought of his seat suddenly ejecting out of the aircraft, a plume of multicoloured smoke trailing from his ass and that grin wiped clean of his face as everyone waved him goodbye. A girl can dream of other things from time to time.
She craned her head back as far as her harness would allow, stealing a glance out of the window into the darkness. She couldn't tell what was out there. No giveaway lights of civilisation or even the cold glow of the moon. Just black. Not even a chance to see what angle they were tilting at as the chinook went into another gut twisting manoeuvre.
Next to Sam, Hal was trying to bury his chin into his chest in an apparent effort to not spray vomit everywhere, while Valerie looked like she never wanted this ride to end. Her legs swung beneath her seat like a child at the fairground. Hal's round stomach protested against the straps of his harness, probably not helping in the mans discomfort. Beth was oddly fascinated by his jowly cheeks as they puffed in and out in between their hypnotic wobbling. The movement seemed in time with the shaking of Valerie's curly hair, bobbing up and down and swaying from side to side.
The chinook seemed to tilt forward of a sudden, a sense of increasing speed becoming apparent. The noises of the aircraft, though muffled by the headset Beth wore, seemed to thrum with an intensity which everyone seemed to notice. Heads swivelled to looked forward, some darting back and forth as if there was anything to see other than the dark hold and the doorway to the cockpit beyond that Mercedes SUV.
Something different caught Beth's eyes though. Behind Sam Summers head, through the window, light was seeping into the darkness. Sunrise. The unmistakeable golden red of the dawn light, climbing above the horizon in that beautifully slow way that it had.
The black horizon cut across the oval of the window, bisecting the view. Black below, gold above. The watery suggestion of blue sky began to appear, melding with the light as it spread. The black began to glitter here and there, the sea reflecting the welcome rays of the sun. Like a dance, forever promised and forever performed each day.
Beth twisted her lips in thought, wondering why she could see the sun. Made her realise how much she'd lost track of time and her sense of direction. They were approaching the island from the north, hurtling south at an alarming speed she now saw. The dark blue of the ocean began to fill more of the windows. An even more alarming prospect than their speed. They were flying low. Breath-takingly low, as Beth gasped in shock. The waves were not high, mercifully, but she could see them forming, swelling and falling clearly enough as they sped by. She was sure the spray must be hitting the bottom of the chinook. The unavoidable thought of them all plunging into the ocean suddenly washed through her mind.
Others were spotting the daylight now. Pat and Jill were pointing, a look of eager excitement on their faces, while Perry sat with a dour expression, almost irritable. Despite knowing the man for barely a day, it now seemed strange to see him without a cigarette. He was chewing gum, the lump of it being chased around his cheeks in a way that only added to his look of plain annoyance. Or maybe it was nerves. Didn't seem possible, having met some of the sterner members of the team, Perry amongst them, but maybe they all felt nerves the same as anyone. Everyone was human after all. Everyone apart from maybe Catherine Redgrove, who sat towards the front, fists balled on her thighs and the tendons in her forearms squirming. That scar on her arm rolled and writhed as the sinews moved beneath it. Beth wasn't sure she'd ever seen a more formidable looking woman. Save perhaps her mother.
The thought of the two of them in the same room popped into Beth's mind, in what circumstances she couldn't really say. But she could feel the force of wills that would surely collide. It was not a pleasant thought. A bit like the last time she'd seen her mother, and the force of will she'd had to draw upon herself.
There was a sound of white noise in the earphones of her headset, and then that female pilots voice.
"You'll be pleased to hear our destination is straight ahead. For those of you not enjoying the flight, prepare to enjoy it a lot less. I'd hold tight if I were you."
Beth frowned, wondering what could make this flight any more unpleasant. Sam was clearly thinking the same, his mouth moving silently and asking a question to himself that ended in a word her mother would have found horrifying. Her stomach tensed up, and then she caught a glimpse of the island.
A green and grey headland, thrust out from the island, edging into view through Sam's window, the rocky slopes of the bluffs becoming more and more visible as they flew closer. And then the cliffs curved around towards them, and the growing light of the welcome morning was snatched away and they were plummeted back into a half darkness.
Through the window Beth saw a craggy cliff face, hurtling by in a blur of browns, black and dark green. She wondered if they had flown into a hole in the island. She tilted her head backwards, turning again as best she could and peeking out of her own window. The same sight greeted her, a blend of dark colours zipping by. Only above, before the windows thick frame obscured the view, the top of a canyon edge could be seen, the lightening sky above a thin strip of blue against the craggy side of the canyon and black silhouettes of trees daring to lean across the precipice.
The chinook made a deep, sorrowful groan, and then Beth's insides felt like they plummeted a hundred feet whilst her body soared upwards, the harness digging into her shoulders. Her tongue wedged itself at the back of her mouth and she was sure she was making an absurd face. Her jaw tensed up, almost painful, as pressure of some sort pulled her face down, her cheeks trying to drop off of her skull as the chinook went up, up and then daylight flooded the hold, illuminating faces, revealing cargo and displaying the hard edges of the metal aircraft they sat in. The light was harsh for that brief moment.
Then the light vanished and Beth felt her body go to jelly as the chinook dived down, presumably in search of everyone's guts which they'd left behind a moment ago. She shut her eyes, feeling that incredible rush of dropping through the air very quickly.
The whump whump whump of the dual rotors above their heads mingled with the groaning of the chinooks fuselage and the worrying creaks of the fastenings and straps that held the SUV in place as the pilots levelled them out, allowing Beth a moment to breath. Just a moment though. Her organs, still mercifully there, now went as far left as they could go as the aircraft banked at a sudden angle, her body now tilting in a direction it was not happy with.
She cracked on eye open and saw the rocks of the canyon walls rushing by, and then the angle changed again, she gasped and light spilled in through the hold once again. Beautiful light. She could see a sea of green, spreading out around them, flashing by beneath the chinooks windows. Mountains, hills and forest. All emerald. All lush with visible and invisible life. The glitter of a river. The gleam of a still lake. Grasslands, joining it all together. And every now and then the sight of an old dirt road, or rusty fence. Small indicators of the islands past. A blood soaked and mysterious past. Or that's how McCallister told it. Beth knew there was a grain of truth to it. Probably a few grains actually. But the past was no place to dwell now. The future beckoned.
They climbed higher above the island, then dipping again and then banking around in a great curving arc. Beth couldn't take her eyes off the outside view. The simple colour of the island was like a drug to her, reminding her of a vice she'd long subdued. She drank it in, eyes darting over every aspect that came into view, replaced by another and another as the chinook swooped over it all. And then a flash of something else.
Amongst the trees. And there, across the grasslands, flitting by. At the speed they were flying, the animals were smudges of brown or black, maybe the odd streak of earthy red. But she saw them.
The ground rose suddenly, thick jungle replacing the grasslands and adorning a lumpy mass of earth, and then it fell away, the chinook angling down and skimming over the tops of the trees as they delved into a valley or basin of some sort. Beth's body once again leant to the side as they were subjected to another sever aerial manoeuvre, and she lost sight of the lush green. She grimaced as the force of the aircraft stole her attention, her hands gripping the tough harness again, her palms feeling a fraction sore.
The noise of the engines changed suddenly, like when a car is put into the wrong gear. The rotors above maintained their steady rhythm but Beth could feel a change. They were circling now, at a slower pace. And in a tighter space. Beth could see the sharper angle that they were turning, around and around. The chinook levelled out again, slowing down even more, and then Beth felt the unmistakable feeling of descending. Behind Sam's head she could see the treeline now well above the chinook. They were landing.
The bump as they set down was so sudden that Beth made a sort of squeak. Or she imagined that's how it sounded. The noise of the engines, rotors and mechanical clanking drowned out any human noise.
Kurt England appeared from the cockpit, a haughty look on his face and a meaty hand smoothing down his moustache before he shouldered his way past the SUV and the row of seated people. That frown of command never left his face it seemed. Beth felt a pang of shame that she'd entertained the nagging suggestion of a doubt earlier. Looking at England, the man looked like he'd never had a doubt in his life. Probably a complete stranger to the emotion. That dog was at his heels, expertly following in his wake and looking like it shared its owners air of control.
There was some chatter in Beth's headphones, a couple of voices exchanging some quick words, and then England was thumping a selection of large, flat buttons on the side of the hull and the rear door started to open.
It was as if it had been the pre-agreed signal. Almost at the same time, everyone was unbuckling themselves and standing, shuffling their hips and reaching for their packs and luggage. Beth followed suit without thinking. She soon had her backpack across one shoulder, seemingly replacing the strap of the chinook harness for the thick strap of the pack. It cut into her collar bone slightly.
The rear door ramp thumped down into the grass, and suddenly England was beckoning them out in the two columns that they had all been sat in. Redgrove was there by his side, watchful eyes scrutinizing everyone as they filed out and down the ramp. Beth stepped into sunlight and instinctively ducked her head as she became aware of the rotor blades above her head still turning.
She followed Alejandro, stepping where he stepped. Seemed the right thing to do as the long blades of grass thrashed at her shins from the buffeting force of the rotors above. Everyone else was doing something similar she saw. Her hair whipped about her face, and the high whine of the engines pierced her ears. It made her squint.
She glanced sideways, noticing the edge of thick jungle a good fifty metres away either side of her. She sucked her tongue into her cheek as the realisation that the animals were all out there somewhere pressed home. She'd not considered it before, intent only on the work that waited for her at the lab. But now, on the ground and away from the interior of the chinook, thoughts of being safe with Oliver back at their apartment seemed preferable. Only for a moment though. Every second that a tyrannosaur didn't burst from the treeline was a second that her confidence returned and doubled. The work still waited, soon to be wrestled with. She smiled to herself.
Someone shouted, and she jerked her head up, looking over Alejandro's shoulder. Two trucks sat ahead of them. Both had the look of cargo trucks, well used and well-travelled. The paint on the cabs was faded and flaked, and the business-like bull-bars on the front were rusted and dented. One of the trucks had a tattered and flapping olive-green tarp over its cargo bed, the metal bars of the frame poking through the holes like the exposed ribs of a carcass.
Redgrove was there at the open back of the first truck, pointing and gesturing at each person as they approached. Henry was up and into the half-shade of the cargo bed first, with Pat and Jill following close behind. Jill's legs scrambled awkwardly at the edge of the truck, and Beth had the silly worry that she'd make a fool of herself climbing in.
She glanced behind her and saw the other column of people hadn't followed them. They were busy unloading the various bit of equipment and cargo from the chinook in a swift and efficient manner. Perry and Elliot were there, and Sam too, looking a bit lost as he carried a large cargo box with that red-haired man Mort that looked like he lost a few bar-fights in his life. They were ferrying the equipment to the second truck, stowing it and jogging back to the chinook for more. A hand grabbed her roughly by the collar.
"What are you looking at girl!? On the fucking truck! Now!" A small bit of spit landed on Beth's cheek as Redgrove barked in her face. Redgrove hauled her towards the truck and Beth clambered up, her worry of making a fool of herself quite forgotten as she nursed an aching dislike of Redgrove. Her shin bumped painfully against the lip of the tailgate and she hissed, finding the pain horribly disproportionate. She glared at the back of Redgrove's head, wanting to blame her for the ache in her leg now. Redgrove was already hollering at Hal though, the man manoeuvring his rotund body onto the truck and forcing Beth to move along to find a space on the floor towards the front. McCallister seemed to think it was highly amusing how Hal bustled along. Henry sat still in the corner, his lips pursed together tightly. He gave Beth one of his nods as she sat down and hugged her pack to her, rubbing her shin gently.
Valerie came last, shuffling along and sitting next to Alejandro. Redgrove barked something at them and then slammed the tailgate shut, disappearing around the side. McCallister was still grinning as Beth felt the truck rumbling, the vibration of the heavy engine growling into life travelling through her ass and up her back. Her hands fidgeted with her pack, and she craned her head forward to look out the rear of the truck, like an excited child that couldn't wait for the bus or train to start moving.
She watched as that Mercedes SUV rolled down off the ramp from the chinook, moving towards the other truck. With a jolt of worry the chinook suddenly took off, the ramp closing up even as it got airborne, banking above the grassy space and passing from view. The noise of it faded, leaving just the splutter of the trucks engine and the occasional call from one of the men by the other truck.
The view began to move, the wide grassy area turning and showing her the treeline as the truck turned in a wide arc. She saw the second truck, cargo bed stacked with crates, cases and piles of duffle bags, with Elliot stood up on the edge of the tailgate, holding onto the tarp frame with a big hand. England was climbing into the front seat, his dog waiting for him with Perry sat at the wheel. Sam and Mort must be in the SUV then.
The SUV sped up, wending its way through the grass and overtaking them. The second truck was soon behind them, bouncing along on a dirt track with a plume of dirty cloud following in its wake. Beth could just make out the shape of England's dog, excitedly moving around and occasionally sticking its head out of the window, tongue hanging down. Looked like it was smiling.
Beth saw the ground behind them tilting up, gravity pulling her ever so slightly towards the front of the cargo bed, her butt sliding on the metal surface. She gripped the bar of the tarp frame, steadying herself, and watched as the trees began to close in around them, as if they were headed into a funnel of jungle. The blue sky of the morning above, still slightly watery, began to get pushed back by the reaching arms of the trees, the canopy leaning over the dirt road and casting a dark green hue across the view from the truck. Through the rips and flaps of the tarp Beth saw some of the longer and more adventurous limbs of the trees, dangling down and slapping at the truck as they passed beneath. More than once there was a disconcertingly loud bang as a large branch was pushed out of the way, with more of the tarp being ripped away. Streaks of light appeared, twisted and vanished as the tarped flapped about.
McCallister started slapping his knees, as if listening to a drum beat. It was an obnoxiously annoying movement, especially with his smug face. His hands came together and Beth could see he was cracking his knuckles again. The noise of the truck mercifully drowned out the cracks. He nudged Valerie with an elbow.
"Reckon they've got cable at the hotel?" He looked as if he expected the whole team to chortle and pat him on the back for an excellent joke. Valerie looked caught between wanting to slap him in another way and offer the obligatory humourless snigger. Hal took the bait though, maybe wanting to strike up a bit of honest conversation.
"Maybe there's a pool?" he offered with an unconfident smirk. "Could use a swim in this heat." McCallister looked him up and down, his eyes hovering on Hal's stomach.
"Not sure we want to see you in Speedo's, thanks bud." The hands made to crack another knuckle. Hal couldn't hide the hurt look. His own hands picked at his shirt around his belly in that way unhappy people do. Beth frowned, not liking that there were already two people on this venture she was beginning to dislike quite severely. McCallister was going in for the kill though. "Mind you, if we ever get into trouble with any of the animals, suppose it's handy to have a walking buffet with us." He cracked one last knuckle and barked a laugh. Hal frowned, but he looked evenly back.
"I don't think that'll be a problem,'' he said with a smile a bit more confident this time around.
"Oh?" said McCallister, sensing another chance to make someone else feel bad.
"Yeah," said Hal. "They'll smell there's an asshole here and keep well clear." McCallister barked that laugh again, but his eyes hardened.
"I like that,'' he said, sounding as sincere as a knife blade. "You're a funny guy." His grin crept across his face at an unpleasantly slow speed before he went back to slapping his knees. Alejandro gave Hal a friendlier smile and a nod of approval. Beth glanced at Dr. Wu, who continued to look out through a small tear in the fabric with all the interest of a brick wall. She settled for a quick glare at McCallister and gave her necklace a gentle rub, wondering where Oliver was right now.
The truck turned a sharper corner of a sudden and then Beth saw the trees give way beside them, fanning out as they passed from the dirt road onto a concrete area. Bent and broken gate posts passed them by as they crossed through a perimeter of some sort, with the ruined gates hanging from rusted hinges at an angle. Beth caught a glimpse of chain link fence that had been slashed by something, some sections barely hanging to the iron frame work, before the second truck obscured the view.
The truck turned again and Beth saw the walls of a building on her left, dark windows up high and slanted roof, all stained with the green algae of the surrounding jungle. The concrete area they were driving on was scattered with greenery, shrubs and bushes, with patches of grass as well, all evidence that the jungle was reclaiming the space made by man. A ways behind them, Beth saw trees obscuring more of the building as it cut across the far side of the concrete space. Larger towers, chimney stacks and domes poked their way above the edge of the roof, both next to her and far behind.
She'd heard the lab on Sorna was vast, had no reason to disbelieve it in fact. The showroom lab on Nublar had seemed the forefront of genetic discovery and indulgence, like the prized racehorse compared to the larger heavy lifting thoroughbred here. She'd never really had need to think about it too much. But even a few glimpses of it now, dilapidated and at the mercy of the island around it, she felt giddy about what lay inside. What it must have been like, in its prime and operational zenith, all those years ago, she felt giddier still to imagine.
The others were leaning and craning now, watching the building as they drove past, their own eyes lighting up with wonder, awe, opportunity and excitement and God knows what other emotion a human was capable of. Fear as well, maybe, catching Alejandro's concerned face as he took in the sight.
"You ok?" she called over to him. He offered her an easy smile, his face turning from concern to carefree charm in a moment.
"Just hope they've got a combi in the kitchens here,'' he said. "A Lacanche would be nice, but I guess I can't be too, how do you say, fussy?" Beth knew she must have looked lost for a second. "Ovens, Dr. Weaver, ovens. Don't want to be feeding you people from a camping stove."
"I'm expecting only the best,'' said Beth, wondering just how one man would be feeding them all, camping stove or not. Her mind turned to the other things it had not thought about since the briefing. Thoughts that hadn't seemed relevant next to the reason she was going. But now that they drew close, the question of how on earth they would eat, sleep and work in this place, and in safety, all seemed horribly unanswered. She remembered England saying something like it had all been taken care of, but what did that mean?
Looking up at the imposing walls, decaying as they were, Beth wasn't sure much had been taken care of at all. She glanced across at Henry, hoping to find some sort of reassurance and only finding his pensive silence. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to trust in Henry's lack of apparent worry. Not that he showed much of anything.
There was a squeal of brakes and the truck came to a stop with a tired hiss. McCallister almost fell to the side, a hand wobbling out in a satisfyingly comical way. The second truck carried on past them, lost from view and fading quickly from sound. Beth heard a door open and some footsteps, and then Redgrove was there at the tailgate, her face looking just as hard and irritable as it ever did. The sun danced across her face, highlighting her sharp features and making her eyes gleam strangely, as if they were made of glass. The light made them look bluer than they were. Icy blue.
"Let's go then,'' she snapped, yanking the tailgate down. Beth followed Alejandro out, shuffling along and dragging her pack with her. Took only a moment before they were stood around Redgrove, the sun beating down on them and all gazing at the lab before them.
Beth's fingers found their way to her necklace, fussing with the chain. She glanced at Henry, wondering if he looked like she felt. The twitching nerves of excitement and trepidation inside her made her feel like her face wouldn't stay still, but Dr. Wu looked evenly at the lab without a hint to his feelings. Beth wondered why she kept being surprised.
"This way,'' said Redgrove, nodding at the building. They followed her past the truck towards the lab, some of them glancing at the far treeline. Not Beth though. She looked forward, the trepidation receding with every step.
"Where's the other truck going?" said Pat, looking off down the length of the lab that was visible. Beth saw no sign of it.
"There's a loading bay, once used for the heavier materials, round the corner,'' said Redgrove. "They've parked closer so they can offload the supplies." Pat grunted in acknowledgement.
"What about that SUV?" said Beth, worrying about Sam for a strange moment. The man must be feeling somewhat overwhelmed.
"Curious bunch, aren't you?" sighed Redgrove, and Beth could almost see her frown even looking at the back of her head. "Patience costs nothing."
They skirted the high wall and rounded a corner, and there was the SUV, parked up neatly in a wide, shallow alley set into the wall of the lab. It was dim, but enough light showed Beth a couple of heavy looking doors, one of which looked like a shutter type. Horizontal slats across it were framed with the universal colours of yellow and black to denote a hazard. There was just enough paint left on the faded lettering above the door for Beth to see it was a personnel elevator.
The doors of the SUV opened and Sam and Mort appeared. Sam's eyes were wide, looking like a startled owl. Beth smiled at him, hoping it would make him feel like travelling in secret to an abandoned lab on an island with prehistoric animals was quite normal and something to be at ease with. She wasn't sure how successful she was as he returned a twitch which only somewhat approached a smile.
Mort paced over to the elevator door and heaved up the heavy looking shutter door. The clanks of the mechanism sounded harsh suddenly against the quiet of the lab.
"Inside then, all of you,'' said Redgrove. Henry was first in, followed swiftly by McCallister and Jill. Beth slipped inside and found herself in a square space just about big enough for all of them, even with their travelling packs. Beth had to move her head away from Valerie's invading curls as they crowded in, and it was difficult to ignore the sudden smell of ten sweating humans. McCallister was grinning at Hal again, his eyes darting from the mans face to his stomach and saying more than any words could as Hal tried to tuck himself into any available space.
Mort closed the door and after a bit of bad language and some fumbling at the worn looking lever switch the elevator rumbled into life and jerked upwards suddenly, gaining momentum and height. For what felt like a dilapidated bit of machinery, the motion of the elevator was quite smooth.
The movements finally ceased after only a short moment and Mort shuffled through the bodies, heaving up a door on the opposite side that they had entered. Beth fought her way out, puffing more curls out of her face, and felt a moment of cold doubt as she stepped over the threshold.
It was dark. Stifling too. The sudden heat in the darkness poked at Beth with that instinctive fear of the unknown. It was difficult to make out anything other than black lumps and shapes in the darkness, and the accompanying waft of musty, dank and fetid air threatened to choke any breath left out of Beth lungs. A heavy oppression hung in the stillness.
Beth's eyes gradually accustomed, and the darkness gave way to a corridor. The windows were thick with grime, dirt and algae. Years of neglect had allowed the light from outside to be blocked out, a weighty darkness reigning in its place. A small flashlight cut through the dark, and Redgrove sniffed.
"This way. Stay close."
Beth heard someone exhale deeply. She guessed who'd made the sound. Sounded full of worry. She nibbled her lip as a small bit of her own worry niggled at her. And then they were following Redgrove through the dark.
The corridor was devoid of furniture or feature. Just peeling walls of dry plaster or rusting steel. Above, the ceiling tiles were rotting, and dead or broken lights hung from grubby ceiling roses. One hung dangerously low at face height, and many of them had to duck out of its way. Occasionally they passed closed doors with empty name placards or broken ones. Beth managed to read one as the flashlight passed over it, the words Server Room 4B just about readable. Their footsteps sounded like hollow thuds amongst the shuffling and rustling of their packs or the occasional grunt or deep breath.
Redgrove took a right turn at a junction in the corridor, and Beth had just enough light to see that the way to the left had been stacked from floor to ceiling with just about anything you could imagine. Chairs, cabinets, water-coolers, large plant pots and Beth was pretty sure she could see a fridge had been jammed into the pile. A barricade, Beth realised with a jolt of alarm.
Redgrove led them on further, taking a left turn and pointing at a door.
"This is one two of doors in this section of corridor that hasn't been locked or barricaded,'' she said. "It's a stairwell and will take you down one floor to a room you can wash and dry your clothes."
The soulless atmosphere of the place did not give Beth much hope that there was a quality launderette down those stairs. She nibbled her lip that bit harder as she steeled herself for several months of semi clean clothes.
"What about washing ourselves?" said Alejandro, wiping at his forehead.
"There's…another room, for that,'' said Redgrove, sounding the like the word room was a far cry from what it actually was. "This isn't exactly the Ritz though."
They trudged down a section of yet more dark corridor, the sound of crumbled plaster crunching under their feet or the occasional splash through a small puddle. Here and there, small beams of golden light broke through specks in the dirty windows, creating glowing strips across the gloom. Beth put her hand through one, watching the circle of light on her palm. Swirls of dust danced in the light before they were whisked away by the passing of Hal as he followed close behind.
Redgrove finally stopped at another barricaded section of the corridor. The same tactics had been used here, with stacks of chairs, boxes and other paraphernalia piled high. There was a door to the left of the pile. It made a groan of protest as Redgrove opened it, and they followed her into what seemed to be an even darker room, if that were possible. Her flashlight clicked off, and Beth heard a few of them gasp as they were left in the pitch black. Footsteps moved away from them, and then with a squeal of rusty metal, light poured in from a corner of what Beth could now see was a fair-sized room.
The size was perhaps the only thing going for it.
As Redgrove opened more metal slats in the windows, more of the room became visible. From the looks of it, the room may have once been a library or filing room perhaps. There were a few high shelves, with rows of books and folders, and on the coarse carpet tiles beneath Beth could see the evidence of where heavier book shelves or cabinets had once stood. Probably hauled out into the corridors for the blockades, if the marks in the floor were anything to go by. In another corner were the piles of discarded books, files and binders. Beth felt a sharp stab of annoyance at the untidy and disrespectful treatment of the work. Pages of research, just scattered on the floor or in a heap.
The room was rectangular, and at the far end were two doors. The contents of the space were minimal at best. There were some mismatched tables and chairs, scattered here and there and a few stools. And against one wall a small, uncomfortable looking couch was positioned. What appeared to be a dirty vending machine was against another wall, but the glass was so grubby Beth couldn't tell if it was stocked. Not that the contents would have been edible, she imagined. A computer, clearly long dead, was sat neatly on a small desk.
"Summers, you're with me,'' said Mort suddenly, and without another word he paced over to the one of the far doors, Sam trying to keep up. They vanished through the dark opening before Redgrove approached the other door.
"Hope you like what we've done with the place,'' she said without an ounce of warmth. "This is where we will spend most of any down time. No, its not comfortable. But it's the best we could do over the last few weeks. I'll show you to your rooms now."
She pulled open the door and they followed her along a short corridor before ascending a short flight of steps. They emerged through onto a landing with a surprisingly clear window at the far end with two doors adjacent facing each other. The view outside consisted mostly of green tree tops, swelling up around the lab and climbing up the valley that they were situated in. The garish glow of the sun off the top of trees was almost painful to look at.
Redgrove opened the door to the right of the window and revealed a narrow room with old camping cots lining the wall on both sides. Not too dissimilar to the room Beth had slept in at the briefing. Basic, uninviting and a sight that was already making Beth miss her bed at home. And Oliver. The privacy of their apartment, and his warm body at night beneath cool sheets felt like a steep price to pay for this. She closed her eyes, trying to fight through the shock and arrive at the acceptance stage as quickly as possible. Wasn't the easiest thing to do.
"The rest rooms are across the landing, through that opposite door,'' said Redgrove.
"Let me guess,'' said McCallister. "Its just a hole in the ground?"
"Hilarious,'' said Redgrove flatly. "You'll be pleased to know it's a functioning lavatory, and functioning basin. Just about. You can leave your belongings here."
"So, there's no separate rooms for the women?" said Valerie, fiddling with a curl. "Everyone is sleeping in here? And we have to get dressed, in here?"
"Is that a problem?" said Redgrove, sounding like there was only one answer to the question that would be acceptable. Valerie made a kind of coughing noise and fiddled with her curls a bit more, looking at the cots with about as much distaste as you could imagine. Beth didn't like the thought of it either. Redgrove was looking at them all and then sighed.
"Its far from ideal, I know. I'll speak to England though and see if we can find something to make a partition of some sort. But this isn't high school. We're all adults. We all need to just get on with what we're here to do."
There were a few more uncomfortable looks, but soon people were setting their packs down and claiming cots. Hal was even laying down, putting his hands behind his head and getting comfortable. The cot groaned beneath his weight.
"Mr. Priest,'' called Redgrove. Hal cocked an eyebrow at her. "You'd best not get too comfortable. You and Miss Norton will be needed shortly to establish the I.T equipment for Dr. Wu and his team. It needs to be ready for tomorrow."
"One day?" said Valerie. "You want a system up and running in one day?" Redgrove just smiled at her.
"Hence the not getting too comfortable. England will send one of the Blue Team to come get you shortly. Mr. Arias, I'll show you to the kitchen where you will be stationed. With me please."
Alejandro fidgeted with his hands for a moment before following Redgrove out of the door, their footsteps thudding away down the steps and out of hearing. Beth wondered where on earth in this laboratory Alejandro would be expected to cook from. At this moment in time a camping stove really did seem likely.
It wasn't long before Sam and Mort returned, dragging with them several storage trunks and cases. Took them a few trips back and forth but soon they were setting up stacks of bottled water, still in the clear plastic wrapping, and other bits and pieces. Toilet paper and other sanitary items were in another case, along with toothpaste, soaps and basic deodorants. There was even a few bottles of insect repellent.
There were books, papers and stationery. Some piles of coats and spare clothing, hats as well. Flashlights and, worryingly, two shotguns with a case of ammunition. Another case revealed floor lamps with heavy looking batteries. Sam was already rubbing at his back, a pained look on his face. Elliot appeared at some point and whisked Hal and Valerie away into the depths of the lab.
Over the course of the morning and most of the afternoon they did their best to settle in, getting the various supplies and equipment organised and in the most useful places. Alejandro returned at around midday, explaining to Beth his convoluted route to the kitchens near a cafeteria. He brought with him a basic lunch of bread and fruit, the best he could offer before he got his own supplies organised. His description of his new working area did not sound appealing.
Far less appealing was the news that the shower room was a cold storage room with a hose, somewhere near the place they could wash their clothes.
Dr. Wu gave Beth and the other members of White Team a brief summary of their plans for tomorrow. It did not sound particularly detailed, which seemed to be the theme recently. But Henry assured them their roles and plans would become clear when they made their way to the lab floors tomorrow. The gleam in his eye as he'd spoken had renewed in Beth the excitement of why she was here. It was almost intoxicating, hearing it even in brief.
The light had begun to fade by the time the rest of England and his team returned to their basic living area. They looked exhausted and shining with sweat, and even England's dog looked tired, its head drooping slightly as it padded after England.
The evening meal consisted of some rice and beans, basic food again and fairly tasteless. Beth poked at it without relish, already feeling the cravings for a home cooked meal. Even Oliver's cooking would do. Perry questioned if Alejandro may have been the waiter at Jurassic Park instead of the chef, which raised a chuckle from McCallister.
As the sun set, the metal shutters were closed in the room and the lamps lit. Beth watched as long shadows sprang from the sparse furniture and the darkness pressed in at them again around the edges of the lamps glow. Everyone sat around in a misshapen circle amongst the lamps. Elliot had produced a case of cheap beer from a crate he'd hauled in. It was warm, and hardly what Beth would have drunk but it had some taste to it. Even Dr. Wu nursed a bottle, though Beth didn't see him take more than the slightest sip over the course of the evening.
McCallister took a long slug from his bottle and stuck his legs out, letting out a satisfied grunt.
"It's like being round a camp fire huh?" he said, smiling slyly. "And you know what they tell around cam…"
"Oh for fucks sake Dave,'' said Pat, huffing. "Will you give your damn ghost stories a rest?"
"Aren't you all the least bit intrigued though?" said McCallister. "This place is haunted. Spookiest island in the world!" Beth watched Sam frowning over the rim of his beer bottle.
"Its just rumours,'' said Jill. "Half baked stories from people who weren't even here when this place got evacuated."
"Stories come from somewhere,'' said McCallister.
"Were you here then?" shot Jill, twisting her lips.
"Nah. I was Nublar at the time."
"Well then can it,'' said Jill. "The only thing that happened here was they let the animals out and all left. Worse stuff happened on Nublar." Beth watched the group, some looking bored and others frowning. Redgrove had her usual flinty look, eyes staring straight through McCallister.
"I like the stories,'' said McCallister. "Grisly, by all accounts." Beth's dislike for the man grew every time his mouth opened but she could not help at being intrigued by the stories now that they were here. "Best hope the man that murdered all those people isn't roaming this lab with his axe." McCallister giggled wickedly.
"Dave, seriously,'' said Pat, finishing his beer. "That's enough."
"Oh I am just having fun!" whined McCallister. "If we can't lau…"
"Fun?" This from Mort suddenly, from the edge of the circle. "There's nothing fun about this place." He set his beer down beside him and looked at McCallister. His voice sounded like he'd never known fun in his life anyway. "I was here, back with Ludlow, and Tembo. I was here when we were all stranded with Hammonds research team, whoever the hell they were. It didn't matter. We were stuck here, with no way out but the promise of an old radio somewhere."
Someone coughed, and Perry scratched at his jaw, still chewing that gum as he listened.
"I was there when that pair of tyrannosaurs attacked our camp. I was there in the chaos, and the terror. Running for my life through the woods. Hearing the screams, and the roars. Wondering if it would be me. Hoping it wouldn't. Praying it wouldn't. Hoping it would be anyone else but me that that Rex caught." He took a breath. A long, uncomfortable one, still staring at McCallister. Beth found her mouth had gone quite dry. "I was there, in that long grass when they came. The raptors. Picking us off one by one. More screams. More blood. Watched as a friend of mine was dragged down, guts ripped open and torn out whilst he screamed for his mother. Three of us made it out. Just three. I still don't know how the rescue choppers found us. But they did. Us lucky ones." Another deep breath, then a small huff of dry amusement. "There are no ghosts here, on this island. Just the dinosaurs, and whatever's left of those that cross them. Which aint much at all.'' He stood up, rubbing at his face. "Aint much at all. I'll see you all in the morning." Abruptly, he turned on his heel and headed towards the doors to the sleeping quarters.
McCallister was still smiling, stretching his arms above his head
"Stories eh?"